


Three ways.

by MurielJones



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Drug Addiction, F/M, mentions of sam/brady
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:23:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23782315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MurielJones/pseuds/MurielJones
Summary: Sam is an addict.  It catches up with Jess.  Or Angst, the summary could be "angst".
Relationships: Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Comments: 2





	Three ways.

Sam just hoped Dean wouldn’t notice. He clutched his hands together—he was cold. He stared ahead needing something to think about and not think about all at once. He hated to leave Jess alone. She could be a slut when she was tripping. He didn’t know how they had pulled it off, neither of them looking high. He was so fucking high, and Jess was just wanting some, just wanting to be fucked, soft and warm and all need. It was proof he was high though that he had agreed to go with Dean. Somewhere he had a little meth, but now he would need to shake Dean to use. He was getting cold, just starting to shiver as the heroin left his system, he needed Jess there to soothe him out of it, to coax him into the morning, with kisses and fucks and meth. How the hell they pulled off their grades mystified Sam, he could study on meth, sure, but heroin? It had started there, the heroin. He was so lost, all the time. Then he met Jess at a party, and Brady and Heroin, he could try to phrase it another way. He had met Heroin and Brady, and Jess. And Heroin was safe in a way nothing had ever been safe before, safe and soft and warm. Brady was too rough, always wanted to top, and Jess, she would do whatever. The heroin made it easy to say yes, to Jess, to Brady if Sam needed some, it made it easy to sleep, sometimes the monsters still came for him, but mostly if he took enough they just slept like he dark and fitful but far away. Then he couldn’t and his grades were tanking, and here-try-a-little-meth. It worked. Caught between the two Sam was functional. Jess kept him sane and warm and fucked. So what if he had to trade a little sex for heroin and meth, so it wasn’t always just Brady, but Jess didn’t need to know, it kept her safe, kept her away from the dealers. Sam took a deep breath, tears welling in his eyes. He really had to work on looking pissed off, Dean would expect him to be pissed off. He knew he was shaking. And he hadn’t left Jess with enough meth through Monday, but fuck it, right now he was just cold. He just hoped Jess wouldn’t try and cook the stuff, he would call and tell her she needed to stretch what she had, he didn’t want her putting out like him just for a fix, just as soon as he could shake Dean.

  
The weekend was a disaster, he lost it at Dean at the wrong moment about the wrong thing, about Mom, he was nearly killed by the Constance. He was cheating, he was wondering if he was cheating on Jess with Heroin, or on Heroin with Jess, on Meth with Jess and Heroin. Brady and those hook-ups-for-drugs didn’t count. It had to count to be cheating. He was cheating on Dean, he was lying to Dean about everything. He needed home, he wanted to stay, he wanted to tell Dean just to take him away, that he couldn’t anymore, that this life was bullshit, and he was as scared now of an OD as he had been before of monsters, the monsters were coming back now, first in those heroin dreams, and then they followed him into broad daylight, tortured him, left him clutching his head with visions of murder inside. He wanted to tell Dean that Dad was right, that he, Sam, was a failure. Sam lingered just a moment before he turned his back on the Impala and headed to his apartment to give in to his demons.  
The next day Sam remembers one thing, knows another, and the papers say a third. 

  
Sam knows that the papers say it was a “fire of unknown origin, possibly an electrical fault in an older building”, they are echoing the police report. Sam knows that Jess’ Dad must have burned (not intentional, but his mind is fucked up) though contacts, and favors, and possibly some cash for those reports.  


Sam remembers that when the door closed behind him he sunk a needle into his arm and shot up, digging blindly into his crisis stash of opiates by the door that Jess didn’t know about. What Sam knows is that Jess was in the kitchen, what he knows is there must have been a flash because that’s what happens when cooking meth goes wrong. What Sam knows is that Jess was no fucking good at cooking meth and he wasn’t there to help her. What he knows is that there was a fire, and he watched Jess burn. 

Sam watched Jess burning on the ceiling like their Mom burned. Sam leaves it at that.


End file.
